“I disappointed!” repeated Lucy; “now, Lizzie, why not own it, and say you are as much provoked at the weather as I am, and wish this horrid storm had stayed in the icy caves of Greenland?”

“Because,” answered Lizzie, “I really care but little about the party.  You know Harry will not be there, and besides that, the old, ugly pain has come back to my side this morning;” and even as she spoke a low, hacking cough fell on Lucy’s ear like the echo of a distant knell.

Lucy raised herself up, and leaning on her elbow looked earnestly at her sister, and fancied (’twas not all fancy), that her cheeks had grown thinner and her brow whiter within a few weeks.  Lizzie proceeded with her toilet, although she was twice obliged to stop on account of “the ugly pain,” as she called it.

“Hurry, sister,” said Lucy, “and you will feel better when you get to the warm parlor.”

Lizzie thought so, too, and she accelerated her movements as much as possible.  Just as she was leaving the room Lucy detained her a moment by passing her arm caressingly around her.  Lizzie well knew that some favor was wanted, and she said, “Well, what is it, Lucy?  What do you wish me to give you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” answered Lucy; “but do not say anything to father about the pain in your side, for fear he will keep you at home, and, worse than all, make me stay, too.”

Lizzie gave the required promise, and then descended to the breakfast parlor, where she found her grandmother, and was soon joined by her sister and father.  After the usual salutation of the morning the latter said “There is every prospect of our being alone to-day, for the snow is at least a foot and a half deep, and is drifting every moment.”

“But, father,” said Lucy, “that will not prevent Lizzie and me from going to the party to-night.”

“You mean, if I choose to let you go, of course,” answered Mr. Dayton.

“Why,” quickly returned Lucy, “you cannot think of keeping us at home.  It is only distant a few rods, and we will wrap up well.”

“I have no objections to your going,” replied Mr. Dayton, “provided you dress suitably for such a night.”

“Oh, father,” said Lucy, “you cannot be capricious enough to wish us to be bundled up in bags.”

“I care but little what dress you wear,” answered Mr. Dayton, “if it has what I consider necessary appendages, viz., sleeves and waist.”

The tears glittered in Lucy’s bright eyes as she said, “Our party dresses are at Miss Carson’s, and she is to send them home this morning.”

“Wear them, then,” answered Mr. Dayton, “provided they possess the qualities I spoke of, for without those you cannot go out on such a night as this will be.”

Lucy knew that her dress was minus the sleeves, and that her father would consider the waist a mere apology for one, so she burst into tears and said, rather angrily, “I had rather stay at home than go rigged out as you would like to have me.”